Court This Disaster
by arianna99
Summary: For the prompt "Alex becomes the victim of a hate crime and George helps him recover". Slight AU, George/Alex slash.


**Title: **Court This Disaster (I'll Point You Home)

**Fandom/Pairing: **Grey's Anatomy, George/Alex

**Rating: **NC-17

**Disclaimer: **Not mine in any way, shape or form.

**Word Count: **~11000

**Summary: **For the prompt** "**Alex becomes the victim of a hate crime and George helps him recover".

**Notes: **Set roughly S2, maybe S3, obvious discrepancies from canon, all of which are explained within.

It all starts when Alex calls George.

No, wait, that's not true. Strictly speaking it all starts at the intern mixer. Way back when and all.

Thing is, George has a fairly decent gaydar, and he just knows about Alex. This is probably why Alex kind of hates him. It's not that they ever really talk about it (Christ, no. That would be all kinds of awkward), or that anyone else knows about either of them. It's just there, hanging between them like a neon sign only they can see.

Alex confuses George, though. He's "down with the rainbow", sure, but he still tries to convince everyone he's into Izzie (or, well, manages to convince everyone except George he's into Izzie) even though it's glaringly obvious he's not at all when he can't go through with it and the whole ill-advised fling ends in tears.

George keeps his mouth shut about it, though, just like he kept his mouth shut about the fact that they both got syphilis from fucking Oliver, a really hot dude working as a nurse to get through college, no matter how much Oliver claims he got it from Alex.

Still, George isn't entirely certain how no one has noticed just how completely gay they both are. He knows Meredith and Izzie think he has a thing with Callie, and he thinks Callie might have a little crush on him, but he's just not interested. She's a friend. He knows Meredith and Izzie both think Alex is just a complete manwhore, and while that may be true, he's definitely not sleeping with women.

George would know.

Okay, yeah, there've been a few times when he and Alex…well, you know. Sometimes you just need to touch someone, and sometimes a sort-of friend is better than a stranger. Or something. God knows Alex is better than George imagined.

Still. No one knows, about either of them, and George's not too bothered. If he were in a relationship, well, then, maybe he'd want to tell people, but he's not, and the only person he's interested in currently is Alex. And he's not entirely certain pursuing_ that_ with Alex would be a particularly bright idea.

So that's where things stand on the night of that fateful phone call. They're both gay, and no one knows. They're occasional fuckbuddies (proven just last night, actually, and George can still feel the lingering ache in his muscles), and no one knows that either.

George is sitting on the couch with Izzie and Meredith, listening to Cristina rant about Burke (again), when his phone rings.

The girls glare at him, because he probably just interrupted someone saying "Seriously?!" again, but he just takes his phone out to the hall to answer and lets them continue, ignoring the looks. He's had enough of the girl talk anyway. Just because he's gay doesn't mean he wants to know about Burke and Cristina's relationship, such as it is.

"Yeah?" He says into his phone.

"George," he hears Alex' voice crackle out, tinny and distant over the cell phone. "I need help."

"What's wrong?" George asks, starting to panic. Alex sounds weak, and breathy.

"Got…beat up," Alex says. "'M at home. Need help."

The phone disconnects, and George stares at it a moment before saying, "Fuck!"

He calls 911 while he struggles into his shoes and grabs his keys. He gives them Alex' address and tells them to take him to Seattle Grace, because that's where he works. By the time he hangs up, George is already in the car and on his way to the hospital.

It's only when he's already there, already in his scrubs and waiting for the ambulance with Bailey that he considers he maybe should have told the girls.

"So you're telling me Karev called you and said he got beat up?" Bailey asks.

"Yes," George says.

"Well, how'd he do that?"

"I don't know," George says.

He's saved from further questioning by the ambulance arriving.

Alex is beaten up. Really freaking badly. It's a miracle he doesn't have any broken bones, but he does have a black eye, bruised ribs, a fractured finger, and something that looks like a giant motherfucking knife wound.

He also has an egg-shaped lump on his head, and if he were completely awake, they'd be able to say if he has a concussion. Unfortunately, he's not really awake, which is really, really bad.

George never thought he would be this glad he's an intern, but he really is, because if he were in control now he would completely freak out and freeze up. As is, he's just answering Bailey's questions on autopilot and handing her instruments.

He never thought he'd be this freaked out about Alex.

Or, well, maybe he did, but he never thought he'd have to be.

Alex wakes up all the way when they have him in a separate room and are getting x-rays of his stomach and chest to get a look at all the damage.

"George?" He asks.

"Yeah," George says. "Hi. Alex?"

"Yeah."

"Thank god. What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"How many fingers?"

"Two- no, four…"

"Shit, okay, Alex, we're taking care of you, you might need surgery, but you're gonna be okay, and you can't fall asleep, okay?"

"'M tired," Alex protests.

"I know," George says. "But you're going to have to wait. Tell me what happened to you."

"Mmm," Alex groans, and Bailey comes back in.

"He awake?" She asks, and George nods.

"Karev, you've got severely bruised ribs, a concussion, and you lost a lot of blood. We're going to take you into surgery as soon as Shepherd's made sure your head is fine and fix the damage from that knife. Can you talk?"

"Yeah," Alex says. His voice sounds like dragging glass over nails.

"What the hell happened to you?"

Alex groans again, and says, "How soon's the surgery?"

"Half an hour, max. It won't take long, you were lucky and nothing vital was damaged, but we've still got to patch you up."

"Okay," Alex says. "Leave me alone till it's over."

-

In the end, the only reason the surgery is interesting is because it's Alex. And because George gets to do the sutures. Dr. Shepherd deems the concussion run-of-the-mill, uninteresting and thoroughly treatable without cutting into Alex' skull, which is definitely a good thing.

Bailey's pretty damn shaken up about this, though. It's one thing for her ducklings to get into average scrapes, one thing for appendicitis or pregnancy difficulties to happen, or something that happened because of their own stupidity, but it's a completely different thing for one of them to have bruises from other people's feet on their ribs and a stab wound from a knife someone else rammed into their gut.

George sees her on the phone, telling her husband she won't be home, again, and he says, "I can stay, Dr. Bailey."

She looks him up and down, nods. "I'm on call, so if anything – anything at all – happens, you tell me."

He nods.

"And O'Malley?"

He looks up from Alex' chart.

"Try to find out what happened to him."

George is willing to admit he hasn't freaked out this badly since he was fifteen and he realized he was gay in the first place.

(It wasn't a huge surprise or anything, it was just that there was this smoking hot guy on the basketball team and suddenly George couldn't pretend he was at all straight to himself anymore and it was an issue because his family's Catholic. It was an uphill battle, but his mom and dad know now, even though his brothers don't, and they're okay with it. Coming to Seattle Grace, he just kind of slipped back into the closet and didn't really care. He wanted to concentrate on his career first.)

But this is Alex, lying still on a hospital bed, attached to freaking tubes and being monitored.

George will admit that he might have a bit of a crush on Alex. Beyond the whole carnal relationship thing, he actually likes Alex as a person. Which is strange, because most people don't, but George does. He's gruff and evil, sure, but he's kind of cute and sweet, too.

He didn't know it was a big enough crush to have a full on panic attack over the guy, but there you go.

George spends his night doing charts. Outside Alex's door. With an obsessive eye on his pager. And Alex' door just a bit open.

It's around two in the morning when Alex finally wakes up. "O'Malley?" He asks, and his voice sounds a bit less like torture and a bit more like Alex when he wakes up, and George absolutely does not almost faint with relief.

"Yeah?" He says quietly, entering Alex' room and closing the door. "How are you?"

"I had surgery. How do you think I am?"

"Obviously the brain damage didn't make you nicer," George says.

"Yeah, ha, ha," Alex tries to shift to a more comfortable position and winces.

George immediately sets his chart down and rushes over. "Do you need help? What do you…need?"

"I fucking hate catheters," Alex grimaces.

George laughs, and sits down next to Alex' bed. "Sorry about that. You know the drill, if you recover well, you'll be off it soon."

"Yeah," Alex says. "Hey, could you maybe lift the back of this thing a bit? I'm kind of…I want to be upright."

"Yeah, course," George says, and finds the remote thingy that lifts parts of the bed.

"Thanks," Alex says.

George waits a while, till the silence stops feeling comfortable and starts feeling strained. "Alex?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me what happened."

Alex sighs, shifts. "We got this patient in neonatal."

"The lady with three preemies?"

"Yeah, her."

"Okay," George guesses a joke about infants beating Alex up would not be good at this point.

"Well, it's her husband, he's…a real dick. And coming from me, that means something."

It does, too. Alex can be a dick, but he's not a hypocrite and doesn't condemn other people for behavior like his. If he calls someone else a dick, then they really, really are.

"Okay," George says.

Alex sighs. "Jerk doesn't like me 'cause he thinks guys shouldn't be on neonatal. Thinks I'm tryin' to feel up his wife."

That, now, that is almost funny.

"We have to keep the mom in longer than we thought, and this guy somehow thinks that's my fault, that I have some plan to seduce her or something. So he followed me home."

"He followed you…Jesus, that's crazy."

Alex laughs hoarsely. "You're tellin' me. He followed me last night, though, so what happened instead is that he found out I'm a fag, and that's obviously why I want to kill his wife."

"Oh, shit," is all George can say, because that makes this his fault. He was at Alex' apartment, last night. He fucked Alex last night, and he kissed Alex goodbye in the doorway this morning, and apparently that's why this happened to Alex. "I'm so sorry."

"'S not your fault," Alex says with quiet, contained, absolute rage. "It's his. Guy was barely smart enough not to kill me at work today, so he got a bunch of his friends and broke my damn door in tonight and beat the hell out of me. Threw a fucking blanket over my head, but I recognized his voice."

"I'm calling the police," George says.

"No, wait," Alex says.

George doesn't want to, but he can't really say no right now.

"Please," Alex says.

Alex usually only says please when George's got three fingers in him and has a hand on his dick.

George sighs, settles back into his chair. "That's a hate crime. It's illegal."

"Thanks, Sherlock," Alex says.

"Why don't you want me to call them?"

"It's the middle of the night," Alex says. "It'll make a huge fucking scene. Can you just wait till morning? I'll talk to them, I swear."

"Okay," George says. "But I'm not leaving."

"Okay," Alex says. "I'm sure homophobic ex-military delinquents will be so scared of you they won't murder me."

"Shut up."

"Thanks, George." It's so quiet George almost misses it, but he doesn't, and he smiles to himself.

"Get some more sleep, babe," he says, and Alex does.

-

George doesn't sleep that night. Instead, he stays up, watching Alex, finishing his charts, and eventually, at ass o'clock in the morning, he calls the police station and asks them to send over an officer about the guy that got stabbed last night. Of course the police was there, because it's pretty fucking obvious Alex didn't do this to himself, but they said to just call them up as soon as Alex woke up and could talk.

There's a reason George did well in med school, beyond that he really, really wanted to. He's good with clocks and timing himself and pacing himself. He makes sure he calls the police so that the officer comes just when the shift is changing and the rest of the hospital hardly notices.

He wakes Alex up with a gentle shake to his shoulder, the one that doesn't have a giant fucking bruise on it.

"Mmmwha?" Alex groans, then sees the police office. "You don't wait around, do you?"

"Nope," George says. Then, to the police officer, "It was a hate crime."

The officer's eyes widen and she sits down on the chair on the other side of Alex' bed. She takes out her notebook, and politely asks Alex to tell her about it.

Alex does, just as briefly and harshly as he did last night.

"What's his name?" The officer asks. Alex hesitates, and then tells her.

"But someone's gotta do something for his wife," he says. "The woman just had triplets. She's going to need help."

"Better off without him, if you ask me," George mutters.

"This is George O'Malley, right?" the officer asks. "You called him last night after you were attacked?"

"Yeah," Alex says.

"He's…" she trails off, obviously wary of making assumptions.

"He's my boyfriend," Alex says.

George will deny the warmth he feels blossoming in his chest if anyone ever asks. It still feels good. Their fingers tangle together, resting on top of Alex' sheet.

"Okay," the officer says. "I'm very sorry for what happened to you. We'll be in touch, and you'll probably have to make a court appearance."

"Yeah," Alex says, and the officer leaves after giving them her contact details.

"So, boyfriend?" George asks when she's gone.

"Sorry," Alex says. "It was the most honest thing I could come up with that wasn't 'fuckbuddy', and I don't want to lie to the police."

"Not saying I minded."

"No?" Alex asks.

"No," George says.

"Okay," Alex says. "So I can call you that."

"Yeah," George says.

"Cool," Alex says.

"Yup." George grins. "Cool."

That's just about the last moment of peace they have. Bailey comes barreling in at seven thirty, Alex' charts and medicine in hand.

"Jesus, O'Malley," she says after taking one look at him. "Did you sleep at all?"

"No," George says.

"George, what the-" Alex starts, but gets subdued by Bailey's evil eye.

"I told you I was going to watch out for you," George says calmly.

"Didn't think you were going to be so literal," Alex grouses.

"Okay," Bailey says. "Well, you're doing well, Karev. Mostly, what you need is fluids and sleep."

"Good," Alex says. "'Cause I'm-" he yawns, "about to fall asleep."

"We'll leave you alone," George says. "Just, do I tell her about…y'know?"

"Yeah," Alex says. "Just don't get it spread all over the goddamn hospital." The last is said against his pillow, and George just barely understands it.

George and Bailey leave the room, after drawing the curtains and the blinds. "Do you tell me about what, O'Malley?" She asks once the door is closed.

"What happened to him."

"You're telling about that right now whether he wants it or not, along with the police."

"Police already know," George says. "I called them in early this morning."

"And whoever did this to him, they're being charged?" She asks.

"I really hope so," George says, not even fighting the clench of his jaw and the curl of his fist when he thinks about that jerk.

Bailey checks her watch. "We've got half an hour before your friends come trooping in here and work starts for real. You look like you need coffee."

"God, yes," George says.

They sit down in the far corner of the cafeteria, and George slowly wakes up to the fact that there is still a world outside of Alex' room and the two of them, with the smell of hot coffee in his nose.

He spreads out the whole thing for Bailey like the cards in a game of solitaire, and she just sits still and listens. It's a startling change in their dynamic, and if George weren't so tired and pissed off and kind of high on the fact that he's Alex' _boyfriend, _maybe he would care.

"I think he's going to need some hours in psych," George finishes, "because he's obviously freaked out, and because he hasn't told me that much about what coming out was like for him, but he wasn't as surprised as I would be by a bunch of guys throwing a blanket over his head and stabbing him with a knife."

Bailey sits in silence for a while before she says, "You know what? I _like _you, O'Malley."

It's not at all relevant to their boss-employee relationship, but it's a hard-earned thing from Miranda Bailey, so George is quite pleased with himself.

"No, I mean it," she says. "You and Karev, both, that's…that's a big issue, and you handled it professionally and kept it out of work. Good. Keep it that way."

"Yes, ma'am," George says.

She gives him a severe look that means, _take me seriously, damnit. _

"It will be a bit hard to keep it out of work, with this happening," George says. He hasn't explicitly said that he and Alex are together, but it's basically implied.

"I can tell," she says. "We'll see."

Meredith, Cristina and Izzie arrive punctually, but they're all still bitching about the romance/lack thereof in their lives. George really doesn't care. After last night it doesn't really feel as important to him.

"Okay, everyone," Bailey says when they've all gathered together. "Yang, cardio, Grey, neuro, and Stevens, you're on neonatal today."

"Where's Alex?" Izzie asks.

Bailey's eyes meet George's for just a second, and then she says, "He's sick. O'Malley, I'm not trusting you with in the OR today, you're just gonna have to do rounds and post-ops."

George nods- he doesn't really trust himself, either, he's unbelievably tired, the caffeine jitters just set in, and he's still pretty pissed off.

Alex is still asleep at lunchtime, so George goes and sits with the girls, like he usually does.

"She hates me!" Izzie is saying, "I swear she hates me. I bet she's pissed off Alex isn't here to be here whipping boy."

Ah. Talking about Addison, then. Always a fun topic.

"Where is he, anyway?" Meredith asks. "Because, sick? Seriously?"

George bites his tongue to keep from telling them where exactly Alex is, mostly because Alex would never forgive him.

"Probably in bed with some girl," Izzie says haughtily, and returns to bitching about Addison.

That, of course, is when Bailey walks over to them and says to George, "O'Malley, the, um, officer is here to speak with you."

"About what?" George asks, alarmed that something didn't check out and they didn't actually arrest the fucker.

"Just some details," Bailey says. "They arrested the guy an hour ago, he was hiding out at his brother-in-law's."

"Did he confess?"

She gives him a look. "Ask her yourself. Go on. Scat."

George scats, barely hearing Izzie ask Bailey what's going on.

The officer is as pleasant as she was that morning, blonde hair braided back severely, but eyes kind. "I just need to confirm this with you," she says. "What time did Dr. Karev call you last night?"

"Eight thirty-five," George says. "There was a clock in the room, I remember looking at it when I answered the phone. "

"Thank you," she says. "How's he doing?"

"He's going to need a lot of rest, he's still pretty out of it."

She nods. "We'll keep you posted. We arrested the guy an hour ago and he demanded a lawyer, but he'll probably crack sooner or later."

George breathes a sigh of relief. "Thanks."

She smiles at him. "No problem. I'll let you get back to work."

When she's gone, George abruptly realizes that there's a patient with three sick babies and complications of her own who's probably missing a husband.

Alex is half awake when he comes in. "Hey," he says.

"Hey," George says back and smiles despite himself.

Alex smiles, too.

"How are you doing?"

"Feel like I got hit by a two ton grizzly bear," Alex says.

"That's…vivid."

"Been awake a while. Nothing to do, I'm bored."

"You want a book?"

"Nah, my head still hurts." Alex hesitates a moment, then asks, "Stay a while?"

"God, yes," George answers without hesitation, "But I have to do one thing first. See, they arrested the guy." Alex inhales sharply, and George puts his hand on Alex's. "I-can I tell Dr. Montgomery? The patient…"

"Fuck, yeah," Alex says. "Do that. Then come back here."

"Okay," George says.

He finds Addison up to her ears in charts in neonatal.

"O'Malley," she says. "What can I do for you?"

"It's actually more what I can do for you," George says. "See, your patient, has she been asking for her husband?"

"Yes, actually," Addison says. "Do you know something about it?"

"Yeah," George says. "You know he didn't like Alex? Alex Karev?"

"He thought Karev was trying to steal his wife," Addison says. "He couldn't have been more wrong, but he was pretty upset about it."

"Well, pretty upset, yeah. He followed Alex home, and he found out Alex is gay, and then he got a bunch of friends together and they beat the crap out of Alex."

Addison gasps. "Is he alright?"

"He's post-op. They also rammed a knife into his stomach."

"Jesus," Addison says, leaning against the wall.

"Yeah. The guy just got arrested, so it'll probably be a long time till the patient sees him again."

"Wow," Addison says. Then, "Alex is gay?"

"As a daisy," George confirms. "But it's not really anyone's business, so…"

"Yeah, yeah," she says. "I won't talk."

Alex is watching South Park on the crappy hospital TV when George gets back, but he turns it off.

"You can leave it on, if you like," George says.

"Nah, 's making my head worse," Alex says.

George sits down next to his bed again.

"So, honey, how was your day?" Alex asks.

George shudders. "Don't ever call me that."

"No kidding. Seriously, though, anything happen?"

George launches into a brief description of his day, but it's very brief, since his day's been pretty boring.

"So only Bailey and Addison know?" Alex asks. "You didn't even tell Izzie?"

"It happened to you," George says. "It's really your decision who knows and who doesn't. But a few nurses have seen you, and Bailey probably had to tell the Chief. And I know the girls are curious."

Alex sighs, looks out the window.

"Al?"

"Yeah?"

"When I was fifteen, I figured out I'm gay. I freaked out for a long time, kept it a secret for two years, and when I told my mom I was still scared as hell. And my parents were nice about it."

"Well, you were fucking lucky."

"Alex."

"What?!"

George sighs. "I really like you. I want to give this a shot. And I really, really want you to get better. Not just physically. It's not easy to be different, we both know that. And I know you didn't have it easy. But you can talk to me about it."

Alex doesn't answer for a long time, but when he finally does, it's with his hand slipping into George's again.

George can live with that for now.

The talk quietly, aimlessly, for a long time. George likes it. They never really spent much time getting to know each other.

Just before he leaves for rounds, he says, "You know, it didn't come up last night because you called me and you were awake enough to give consent, but I'm kind of curious. Who's your emergency contact?"

Alex' eyes shutter down. George begins to think he's not going to answer at all, but then he says, quietly, "I have a little sister. She lives in California."

"Want me to give her a call?" George asks.

"I don't know," Alex says. "I never told her I'm…"

"Oh," George says.

"Not like that, George. She knows anyway. It's just…it was hard, okay? Look, her number's on my cell phone, call her when you have time."

Alex turns away and goes back to sleep, or pretends to, so George just takes his cell phone off of the nightstand and leaves.

He kisses Alex on the forehead first, though.

George ends up calling Alex' sister sitting in the car, still in the hospital parking lot.

She answers with a cheery, "Jenny Karev?" Which, yeah, is good, because George didn't actually know her name.

"Hi," he says. "This is George O'Malley. I…I work with your brother, Alex."

"Is he okay?" she asks immediately.

"Uh, no," George says. "He got…he got beat up pretty bad last night, he's in the hospital."

"Oh, my god," she says. "Oh, my god. I knew it."

"How?" George asks.

"He was supposed to call me last night. He never forgets."

George smiles. "Well, he said you were his emergency contact person. It's a bit late, but I thought you'd want to know."

"The fuck, I'd want to know. I'll be in Seattle on the next flight," Jenny says. "I haven't seen him in two years."

"Wow," George says. "That's a long time."

"Listen," she says, "are you his boyfriend?"

"Uh, I guess so," George says.

"Great. Then I can crash at your place, right?"

Apparently, rudeness is a family trait. "Yeah, sure," George says. "Just let me give you the address."

She says she'll be there in a few hours, and then they hang up.

George gets home just in time to be bombarded by questions from Izzie. "Where were you all day?" is the first one, followed by, "Why were the police talking to you?" and "Does it have to do with the woman in neonatal whose husband got arrested?"

"Busy, they had questions, and yes," George says, dumping his stuff on the stair. "Is Meredith here?"

"No, I think there's a Derek showdown tonight," Izzie says. "Again."

"Great," George says. "We need to put bedding on the sofa."

"Why?" Izzie asks.

"Jenny Karev's going to be here in a bit."

"Who?" Izzie follows him up the stairs to the linen closet and takes the bedding he thrusts at her.

"Alex' little sister."

"Why isn't she staying with Alex?"

George sighs, turns to face Izzie. "Alex is in the hospital. As a patient. He got beat up by a…look, it's not my story to tell, but he's in the hospital and his sister is coming here to visit him."

"Oh," Izzie says. "What's wrong with him?"

"Bruised ribs, fractured finger, concussion, knife in the gut."

"That's where you went last night."

George nods, putting the bedding on the couch. "He called me on his cell phone once they'd left, I freaked and called 911 and next thing you know we're in surgery."

"And you stayed up all night and that's why Bailey wouldn't let you in the OR today."

"Yeah. Couldn't leave him alone."

Izzie sits down, hard, on the freshly made sofa. "What the hell happened?"

"It's complicated," George says.

"He told you."

"Telling me wasn't complicated."

"George, please." Izzie has the doe eyes down to an art. "He's my friend, too."

George sighs. "I know, Izzie. Look, he's out of danger, it wasn't a big surgery. It's just not a good subject and he doesn't want it spread all over the hospital. If you go visit him sometime, you can ask him about it yourself."

"Okay," Izzie says, "but I don't like this."

"Neither do I." George yawns. "I really need sleep. Would you wake me up when Jenny gets here?"

"Yeah," Izzie says, and George goes upstairs, faceplants in his pillow and is dead to the world.

-

His phone rings at two in the morning.

It's the night nurse. Alex isn't doing well, she says, and he's asking for George.

George is out of the bed and getting dressed before he hangs up. Izzie is still awake, icing a cake in the kitchen.

"I've got to go, there's something wrong with Alex," George says, pulling on his shoes. "Would you say sorry to Jenny for me?"

He's out of the door before he hears her answer.

Interestingly enough, Jenny arrives just ten minutes after he leaves. She has brown curls and dark eyes, like Alex, but her nose is completely different, probably because it's never been broken, and she smiles more readily.

"Hi," she says. "I'm Jenny Karev." Her voice somehow has a similar cadence to Alex'.

"I'm Izzie," Izzie says, holding out a hand.

Jenny says, "Oh, Alex told me all about you."

"Well, he's never mentioned you," Izzie says.

Jenny shrugs. "He's like that. Is George here? George O'Malley?"

"George had to go to the hospital. There's something wrong with Alex."

Maybe Alex and Jenny are more similar than Izzie's noticed thus far, because Jenny's eyes flash sharp pain and then shutter down.

"Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" Izzie asks, deciding she probably won't sleep well tonight anyway.

"Would you?" Jenny asks, and her voice is soft and pleading and Izzie completely gives up on figuring out whether Jenny and Alex are similar or not.

-

When George gets to Alex' room, Alex is shaking like a leaf and the room smells of vomit and cleaning agent.

George drops his stuff next to the door and is at Alex' side in a second. "Alex? What's wrong?"

"I think he had a nightmare," the nurse says, "Or some kind of delayed shock reaction."

"Alex?" George asks again, but he's hyperventilating and doesn't answer.

George puts his hand on Alex' shoulder and his breathing slows just a bit.

"Close the blinds," George tells the nurse softly. "And the door. We'll be fine. I'll call if he gets worse."

The nurse does as he says.

When she's gone, George kicks off his shoes and drops his jacket and climbs onto the bed next to Alex.

Skin contact calms Alex down a bit more. He stops hyperventilating and starts crying. George just pulls him close and lets him sob against George's chest.

"I hurt," Alex gasps.

"I'm so sorry," George says into his hair. "I'm sorry this happened, but you're gonna be okay."

"He had a knife," Alex says, "He had a knife and I'm scared."

"It's okay. He's in police custody," George says. "It's okay."

Alex shudders just a bit longer and then relaxes into George's hold. He's not sleeping, just breathing deeply. George notices he's crying himself, nose burning with it and salt on his lips.

"Thank you," Alex says quietly.

"You don't need to thank me," George says. "You're my boyfriend, of course I'm here for you." George feels Alex' lips twitch in a vague smile against his neck. "And you know what that means," George says.

"What?" Alex asks.

"You don't get to push me away tomorrow just because I've seen you cry. I'm glad I did, I cried, too, and I want to keep being here for you."

The last bit of tension seeps out of Alex' shoulders, and he leans up a bit to kiss George, the first kiss they've shared since they decided they're a couple. Alex tastes sour, like sleep and spit and vomit, there's wet salt from tears on both their dry lips, and Alex' stubble scratches a bit against George's skin.

It's perfect.

They're interrupted by a sharp knock on the door a few seconds into the kiss.

"It's me," Izzie says. "Can I come in?"

George pulls away reluctantly. He means to get off the bed and disentangle them, but Alex says, "Yeah," before he can.

He gives Alex a questioning look, at which Alex just shrugs, and then Izzie leads Jenny inside.

"Alex," she says, "What did you _do_?"

Izzie says nothing. She's kind of staring at them.

"I didn't do anything," Alex says. "Except exist"

"Same old, then," Jenny says.

Alex barks out a laugh. "I thought I asked you to call her," he says to George, "Not fly her out."

"You had a knife in your stomach," George says. "People are going to care."

"I'm getting that," Alex says. "Look, guys, come in, sit down, don't hang around in the door."

They do, though Izzie's obviously uncomfortable. "Alex, what happened to you?" She asks.

"I got beat up."

"But why?"

Alex shrugs. "Does it matter? Maybe it's just because I'm an asshole and people don't like me."

"Alex," George says.

"What?!"

There's something about Izzie that gets Alex all riled up, maybe the combination of her bleeding-heart syndrome and her slightly judgmental nature, or maybe just the fact that they like each other even though Izzie consistently fails to understand Alex.

"You don't have to lie," George says, "And this wasn't your fault."

"What if I want to?" Alex asks. They're mostly just sitting next to each other now, hands barely touching on the covers.

"Then it's your business," George says. "I'm just saying, you don't have to."

Alex waits a while, then eventually says to Jenny, "He's calling it a hate crime."

"Are you out?" Jenny asks.

Alex snorts. "Please. When was I ever?"

She looks pointedly at George, and Alex blushes and says, "That's new."

"Alex," Izzie says in a low voice. "Why would you be the victim of a hate crime?"

"I'm gay," Alex says. "Always have been. I'm sorry."

Izzie stares at him blankly, and then finally says, "That explains so much."

Jenny laughs easily. "That's what I thought, too."

Alex sinks back against George again, relaxes.

"So it was homophobia?" Izzie asks.

"Yeah," Alex says. "The guy was completely insane. Got his friends, threw a blanket over my head and kicked the shit out of me, rammed a knife in my stomach and told me I'm a sick fuck and God hates me."

"God, Alex," Izzie says, reaching out to him.

"I'm gonna be okay," Alex says gruffly, but the slight tremble of his hand against George's tells George he still needs.

-

Alex is pretty much amazing in bed. It's just a fact. George was a tiny bit drunk the first time they fucked around, but not drunk enough that he didn't feel every second of it. Not drunk enough that he didn't wake up the next morning in Alex' bed with a mild headache and a surround-sound high-definition memory of the entire event.

Definitely not drunk enough that he didn't want to do it over, and over, and over.

That was where it started.

They agreed, no fucking in the hospital. It was a recipe for disaster. No fucking in or around Joe's , either, and no fucking in Meredith's house. Just in Alex' apartment. Their code was basically, "Hey, y'wanna play some video games tonight?"

Neither of them has ever said no. They just don't have the kind of sex you say no to.

It works in a way George is completely blindsided by. Alex doesn't baby him, and he doesn't take Alex' bullshit, and somehow, it works. It also works because neither of them is big on the whole out-and-proud thing. Or maybe they would have been, if they were ever confronted with homophobia, but they haven't been, till now.

George kind of wonders if they're officially out, now. Izzie doesn't seem to have gotten the George-and-Alex memo quite yet, but she'll catch on soon enough, George doesn't doubt. Right now, the more important thing is Alex recovering from what happened to him, and somehow containing the rumor mill.

That last one is obviously not going to work too well, though. George falls asleep next to Alex (he was really freaking tired), but Izzie takes Jenny home at some point, and in the process, manages to clue in Meredith and Cristina about what happened.

The essence of Cristina's reaction is, "Alex got gay-bashed?" in a mildly quizzical tone. Meredith has a semi-what-the-fuck moment, and then moves on with life.

Izzie seems kind of shell-shocked, but mostly okay with everything.

But there's a reason for that. There's a reason the people freaking out most about what happened to Alex are not his friends but his boyfriend, his boss, and his boss's boss's boss.

Meredith, Cristina and Izzie inhabited a slightly different world than George and Alex, growing up. Not vastly different, just alternate layers of one entity, each layer growing grimier and bloodier as you go down. Meredith, Cristina and Izzie grew up in the same fold, little girls with missing daddies who were smart enough to veer on the right side of the tracks and pretty enough to attract just enough attention to damage themselves in ways not visible to the eye. Surface wounds of the soul, if you will. They grew up feeling like outsiders who just pretended to fit in, and never quite realized that it was the same for everyone else.

George and Alex , on the other hand…well, it wasn't so much that they had that much in common, because they didn't, growing up. George was shy and brave and sweet; Alex was like a wounded animal. The core of what separated them from the girls was more that the things that damaged them weren't inflicted by other people; it was something that came from themselves that made them different. Made them avoid the in-crowd, made them hide.

And in Alex' case, the resulting surface wounds weren't just the invisible kind.

Bailey gets it. In a weird way, she understands that much, and she definitely understands the gravity of the situation.

The Chief does, too. It's why he's held the reporters at bay about the case, and why he intends to keep doing so, no matter how much people want to see this kind of thing in the press.

-

George wakes up the next morning because Alex is shaking him, gentler than he cares to admit.

"George," he's saying, "C'mon, George, time to wake up."

"Wha…" George trails off in a yawn. His back is sore from sleeping crooked, and he feels like he's been sleeping in a rollercoaster. "What time's it?"

"You got half an hour before you gotta start work," Alex says.

"Fuck," George says, letting his head fall back against the pillow. "How long've you been awake?"

"A while," Alex says.

"Okay?"

"Yeah."

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?"

"I like watching you sleep."

George stares at Alex blankly for a moment, and then laughs. "Goddamn you, Twilight."

Alex grins at him, because they may have bonded in the past over how much it sucks that people (Izzie) actually like those books. "George?" He asks.

"Yeah?" George says, sitting up and slipping back into his shoes.

"When I get out of here…"

George looks up. Alex is biting his lip and staring intently at the sheet.

"Yeah?" George prompts.

"Can I stay with you for a while?"

It clicks inside George's head, and he remembers that son of a fucking bitch attacked Alex in his own apartment, there's probably a blood stain on Alex' floor and god knows if anyone got his door fixed or detached the police warning tape or anything.

"Of course," George says, and Alex gives him a weak smile.

"Go to work."

"You gonna be okay?"

"Still not a girl," Alex says. "Go. Save lives. Do your job. Be Clark Kent in scrubs."

George salutes him, and leaves.

He has just enough time to grab an industrial-strength coffee and a toothbrush and toothpaste from the supply closet because his mouth seriously feels like someone's corpse has been slowly rotting in is for months. He gets to the changing rooms about the same time as the others.

"How's Alex?" Izzie asks.

George shrugs. "Holding up. He freaked out pretty bad last night before you got there, but I think he's okay when it's light out."

Izzie nods, and Cristina asks, "Did someone seriously stab him?"

"Yeah," George says. "Um, is it okay if he stays with us after he's released, just for a while?"

Izzie opens her mouth, but then realizes it's not her house and looks over to Meredith.

Meredith considers. "I guess we could clear out the attic for him or something. How long would he be staying?"

George smiles. "No, guys, I mean he'd be staying in my room."

Cristina is the first to say, "_Oh,_" like it means something.

The other two repeat it in various inflections, and George is surprised he doesn't even blush. "Problem?" he asks.

"No, no," Izzie says quickly. "No problem. Just…"

"Adjustment," Meredith says.

"Big adjustment," Izzie says.

"Okay," George says, sticking a pen in the shirt pocket of his scrubs. And that, it seems, is that.

-

Around noon, the Chief holds an inspirational speech about tolerance and acceptance and similar bullshit that would probably be more effective if he'd held it before this happened to Alex.

A few days later, Alex is released. The others have visited him several times, despite the underlying layers of awkward.

Jenny went home once she was sure Alex was okay, though they spent hours talking before that. George is dying of curiosity, but he's not going to ask.

He's been to Alex' apartment, in the meantime. It's not quite as bad as he'd worried, the door is closed and locked, so someone must have gotten it fixed after that douchebag kicked it in. Everything looks to be in fairly decent order, as well, but there's a bloodstain on the floor just like George imagined.

He's a doctor, he has some experience in getting rid of blood, but this stain has been there for days. It's dry and a sickly brown color. George does what he can, but the carpet still has a largeish discoloration when he gives up. He packs a bunch of Alex' clothes, throws out the junk in his fridge and picks up some other stuff he thinks might come in handy.

Alex is off work for another week, and as a result, he goes mildly crazy. Hanging out alone during the daytime, every day, for a full week, for someone normally on a tight schedule, is a lesser form of torture. Alex doesn't have much to occupy him, beyond actually thinking about what happened to him, and that's a bit too raw.

He fixes things, instead. There's a leaky faucet downstairs, and the first time George gets home with the girls, it's to find Alex with his head under the sink. Alex is wearing sweat pants and a black wife-beater that's just this side of too tight, and his biceps are straining as he fiddles with a wrench and a pipe.

"What are you doing?" Meredith asks.

"Fixing your leak," Alex says. "The dripping was driving me crazy."

"You know how to do that?" Meredith asks, because they've all tried, but failed.

"Yeah," Alex says, and sits up. "Done."

He takes the hand George offers to pull himself up, and they kiss hello, which is sweet and something George is still getting used to.

"Uh, thanks," Meredith says, and George isn't sure what it is that has her thrown off-balance more: Alex making a useful contribution to the household or the kissing.

"Hey, do you think you could fix the dryer?" Izzie asks.

"Tomorrow," Alex says. "I gotta pace myself."

"Aw," George says. "Were you bored?"

Alex gives him a look. "No, I fix faucets for fun."

Meredith blinks. "Try saying that ten times fast."

Alex gives her a ghost of a smile, they eat a dinner of freezer pizza and Izzie's brownies, and George takes Alex upstairs.

Having Alex in his room is pretty weird.

He's never really been there before. They used to fuck around in Alex' apartment, due to the dual freedoms of no roommates and also _no roommates_.

It meant they didn't have to sneak around and could be as loud as they wanted.

It meant they could start out playing PS2 and end up necking on the couch with no one to walk in and gasp in shock.

George could slide to his knees in the kitchen and blow Alex till he had goose bumps all down his back from leaning on the fridge to stay upright when his knees went weak.

They didn't need to bother closing the door when they fucked in the bedroom, and really, they didn't even have to fuck in the bedroom, there was a perfectly good couch, not to mention a table in the kitchen.

It's different, with them actually being _together, _and with them being at Meredith's. It's a bit cleaner at Meredith's, for one thing, and way bigger, Alex' apartment being kind of tiny. They're restricted to the bedroom for any sexual activities, though, which is strange, but not as strange as going to sleep together and waking up together.

The first night, they just sleep, and if Alex curls close when it gets really dark, well, George isn't saying anything.

The second night, Alex is in a slightly better mood. "How's things at the hospital?" He asks.

George shrugs, and dumps his stuff next to the desk. "Same old. How was your day?"

"Sucked," Alex says. "Bored out of my mind. Watched _Rush Hour 2_ on TV."

George winces. "You really were bored."

"Yeah," Alex says, and they look at each other awkwardly for a second or twenty.

"You okay?" George asks quietly.

"Don't know," Alex says, and then shoulders his way carelessly into George's personal space.

George is glad to have him there.

They stumble-fall gracelessly on the bed from the impact of Alex against George, and George is the first to start laughing.

When Alex joins him, reluctantly, helplessly, his shoulders shake and warm huffs of breath hit George's chest. George can't help himself, he cups Alex' face in both hands and draws him in for a slow, sweet kiss.

Alex responds like he's a drowning man gasping for someone else's air.

Alex is like the weather in March, he blows cold and less cold and slightly warm, windy and rainy, chills George down to the bone and then warms him up with a delicate bolt of sunlight that hits George right where he needs it and promises that spring is coming soon.

Alex confuses the fuck out of George.

Right now, George just goes with the flow, lets his tongue slide hot and fast against Alex' as they slowly roll themselves to a more comfortable position, George over Alex, between his thighs.

At first, George had assumed Alex would be one of those douchebags who were so deep in the closet they couldn't man up enough to let a cock anywhere near their asses, but as it turns out, Alex isn't like that all.

Their first night together, after the very first (in other words, their first sober night together), Alex had ended up on his back on his own bed, gasping as George kissed and licked at his neck, scrabbling for the lube and hitching his legs up around George's waist and saying, "_Fuck me_," like it was fucking Shakespeare, and because everything Alex says means about five times more than you'd think, it might as well have been.

Not that they don't switch, because George's not too keen on narrowing down any relationship that much.

Point is, though, Alex likes being the bottom, a lot. It's probably something Freudian about control and parents and vagina envy or something. Doesn't really matter why.

What matters is that Alex is still the way he always was in bed. Shameless and merciless in equal measure, even though they're only rubbing up against each other, clothes and angles and even orgasms secondary to the kissing.

It's still Alex on his back, letting George do the work, using George's body to move on and around and against, using his mouth to drive George crazy.

It's them, the way they've always been.

George wouldn't really have it any other way.

-

Izzie barges in unannounced next morning, and if she weren't so obviously, suddenly shocked by the sight of them curled up together in bed, all hot skin and loose limbs, it would have been a godsend, because George would never been awake in time otherwise.

Sadly, she's obviously still dealing with the sudden revelation that is George-and-Alex, and it adds layers of unwanted _awkward _to the whole situation.

In fact, the whole thing is bathed in varying levels of awkward, Meredith and Izzie skirting carefully around the edges of their relationship, not sure what to make of it; Cristina ignoring it entirely; Bailey asking in a strangely tentative tone, "How are you?" The first day Alex is back at work.

Alex says, "Fine," but he's lying. George wakes up most nights with Alex shivering and shaking next to him, clutching out for someone to hold on to. He wakes up with wide, scared eyes and holds on to George like he's all that's keeping Alex from drowning in his own nightmares. And maybe he is. Who knows?

A few days after Alex starts work again, he has a really bad night. The second time George wakes up from Alex' thrashing, he can't get Alex to calm down any of the usual ways. His brain is devoid of any and all helpful medical procedures, and he doesn't really want to leave Alex, because he may get worse, but the only thing he can think of is that it's pretty damn cold and maybe heat will help.

He's not as quiet as he should be, rifling through the closet for an extra blanket, but he's completely freaking out and he really doesn't want to use the medication Alex' doctor gave him when he was released. He's not entirely sure Alex would forgive him for doping him up, and the situation isn't life-threatening.

Izzie wakes up from the noise and stumbles out, messy hair long and curly. "What's going on?" She asks in a sleep-dulled voice.

"Go back to bed," George says quietly, not wanting to wake up Meredith, too, or, God forbid, Shepherd, if he's there.

Izzie doesn't take avoidance lightly. Or, well, at all. She's suddenly wide awake, taking stock of the sliver of light from the doorway of George's room, the blankets in George's arms.

"Are you sleeping on the couch or something?" She asks with a bit too much hope. There's still something in her that wants Alex to be an asshole so that the mess that was her relationship with him makes more sense (beyond the obvious part where Alex is gay and Izzie's a girl).

"No. Izzie…" George can't think of anything that will make her leave him alone, and he's kind of in a hurry. "Just…never mind."

He goes back to his room, goes back to Alex, still shaking with wide, empty eyes. He spreads the blanket out over the bed and crawls back in. Alex' skin is clammy to the touch, and his shivers have hardly lessened. It's not like it's some sort of psychosis, it's just a really, really bad freak-out (that's a medical term, by the way).

Izzie follows him in, of course, because she's nosy like that. "Oh my god," she says, when she sees Alex thrashing and muttering to himself. "Is he okay?"

"No," George says. "He's really not."

Alex shivers harder at the sharp note in George's voice.

"Hey," George says, more softly. "Hey, Alex, shh. Baby, it's okay, come on, come back to me, yeah?"

"George?" Alex asks hoarsely. He's been muttering to himself and moaning and almost screaming with whatever is plaguing his dreams.

"Yeah, it's me," George says.

"George, are you here? George, please," Alex says, and George realizes with a sick twist in his gut that Alex is so far away he doesn't quite know where he is.

"I'm here, Alex. Alex. Do you hear me?"

He's got his arms wrapped tight around Alex now, the heat under all the blankets almost stifling, but Alex is starting to snap out of it. His eyes are clearing and he's looking at George instead of through him.

"George," he says, like it's a thank-you and a plea all at once.

"I'm here," George says, letting Alex sink into him. "I've got you, baby."

George hadn't noticed Izzie leave, but when she comes back, Alex is curled against him, breathing deeply, and George is muttering soothing nonsense into his closely-cropped hair. Izzie has a tray with three steaming mugs of tea with her.

"Thanks," George says quietly.

"Does this happen a lot?" Izzie asks.

"Almost every night," Alex admits in a quiet, muffled voice. It means something that he's the one saying it and not George speaking for him.

"You need to see a psychologist," George says as gently as he can, his hand rubbing Alex' side soothingly.

"I'm not broken," Alex says. His muscles draw tight, and George can feel himself losing against Alex' impressive fight-and-flight mentality.

"I didn't say you were," George tries to stop the impending argument. "I just said that you need help. It's okay to need help, y'know."

"Never needed help before," Alex says mulishly.

George presses a kiss to his forehead. "You mean you never got help before. There's a difference."

Izzie is still sitting on George's floor, uncharacteristically quiet, waiting for them to either kick her out or acknowledge her.

"You know I'm going to ask," George says.

Alex sighs. "Yeah."

Izzie shifts uncomfortably.

"Why are you still here?" Alex asks.

"Because I care about you," she says, and Alex just fucking breaks.

"I figured it out when I was fourteen," he says after a long silence, in a voice that's quiet and wrecked and so hurt George doesn't want him to keep talking almost as much as he needs him to tell the story.

"I never told anyone. My family wasn't…good, they'd probably just have kicked me out. My dad, I mean. He didn't like me anyway. I had this friend, on the wrestling team, and once I made a move on him and he just never forgot it. He started getting into fights with me when no one was around, made me stop fighting back or he'd tell everyone about me."

George is still rubbing soothing circles on Alex' skin, not knowing what else to do, and Izzie is reaching out tentatively to hold Alex' hand.

"And then I was in the bathroom one morning, dealing with the bruises the asshole had given me, trying to hide them so my parents wouldn't see and figure out I'm a fag, because I was scared my dad would hate me even more, and my mom was crying downstairs because my dad was telling her she was a worthless piece of shit because there wasn't enough money for him to buy more drugs and Jenny was listening to the Backstreet Boys so loud she didn't have to hear anything and then dad threw a bottle at mom and I just…"

Alex shudders and pauses, but George doesn't stop the gentle exploration of Alex' skin. George has a theory touch grounds Alex. It certainly helps him snap out of panic attacks.

"I lost it," Alex says. "I went downstairs covered in bruises and I punched my own dad in the face and in the stomach until he passed out and we had to call 911 because I was so fucking tired of everything, and I wasn't even sorry because he just…he screwed everything up for me. For my mom. For Jenny, too, she got into some rough shit in high school."

"I'm sorry," George tells Alex, and they both understand it's little more than a platitude, acknowledgement of the fact that they can't do jack shit about what happened but they both wish to God it hadn't. It still helps.

Alex' left hand, the one that isn't holding Izzie's, reaches to George's, presses it flat over his stomach and stills the movement, till they're all just sitting there in George's room, connected at the hands with the smell of peppermint tea in the air.

"When dad got out of the hospital he vanished," Alex says. "We didn't visit him. I didn't. Maybe mom did. I don't know. But he left when he got out of the hospital and he never came back. Never called, never sent a fucking post card, and my mom started drowning. She loved him, y'know, like…like…" and Alex' face says things that are new, things that hurt and things that heal, and George knows not to push. "I started working at a supermarket part time because mom barely made it to work most days. Jenny started hanging out with bikers and smokers and shit. I didn't know what to do. I was fucking around with other closeted guys back then, and they got pretty…I dunno. The guy from the wrestling team, he figured out I wasn't gonna let him use me as a punching bag anymore, and he must've leaked it out and suddenly, I'm the guy with a note stuck in his locker that says 'fag'.

"They never outed me to the school, but some guys started coming after me, you know the kind, the homophobic assholes on the football team and the gay jocks who were scared of me spilling the beans. I…I let them beat me up a couple times, before they realized I wasn't gonna make a huge fuss or out anyone. I just didn't want my mom to find out. It might've killed her."

George nuzzles into Alex' neck, presses a kiss behind his ear, a silent thank you for talking about it.

"Things got better in college," Alex says. "Haven't seen my mom in a long time, I call her sometimes, but I think she still doesn't know. Jenny heard the rumors at school, I guess, when I left. Heck, maybe that's why she did some of the bullshit she did."

"Alex," Izzie starts. There are tears glistening unshed in her eyes.

"Don't," Alex says. "Just…don't. You can't change it. It doesn't go away, it just gets better."

"Okay," she says. "Just. I love you both, and I don't care that you're gay." She presses soft girl-kisses to both their cheeks before she leaves, knowing when her welcome is worn out.

Alex' breathing is shaking again, probably more from emotion than panic.

"Thank you for telling us," George says.

"Wasn't for you," Alex answers. "I needed to."

Alex turns, just a bit, and they kiss softly, aimless and without agenda, until exhaustion catches up with both of them.

-

The next day, on a crisp and gorgeous September morning, Alex goes to see a psychologist.

One court conviction and two months later, twenty nights of waking up shaking and shivering and trying not to scream, he's ready. Sixty nights of George holding on tight, sixty nights of kissing good night and good morning, sixty days of sharing meals and watching _The OC _with the girls, a slow shift of boundaries until it's okay for Meredith to walk in on them making out without it causing a rip in the fabric of their universe.

The key is clenched in Alex' sweaty palm. The door looks like it always did, the hall does, too, but somehow it feels different to him. Maybe it looks different because he's finally going to try being okay.

Trying not to tremble, because he doesn't fucking tremble, he slides the key into the lock and opens the door.

The sun is slanting in strangely, there's dust on the table and an ugly discoloration where Alex' blood didn't quite leave the carpet.

Alex takes a deep breath and crosses the threshold.

It's still his apartment.

He turns around, looks at George standing awkwardly just outside the door, watching Alex move on his own after supporting his every step these last two months.

"Hey, George?" Alex says, feeling lightheaded and lighthearted.

"Yeah?"

"Y'wanna move in with me?"

-

Epilogue

It's easily the best Christmas Alex ever remembers having. It's snowy and cold and there are enough surgeries to go around because so many idiots go driving at night over icy stretches of road, and even more almost get murdered by their Christmas decorations.

On Christmas Eve, George drags him out of the apartment by midday, and they spend the afternoon in Meredith's kitchen, making lazy small talk with Shepherd while Burke and Izzie cook and Meredith and Cristina abscond themselves with a bottle of tequila and shared memories of crappy Christmases. They leave presents there, and, as Alex points out, more importantly, take presents home with them, and then they leave for George's parents' house.

George's mom is probably the nicest woman Alex has ever met. She's not smart like most of the women in their acquaintance are, but she's people-smart, like most of the woman in their acquaintance aren't. As soon as she met Alex, she figured out he was still hurting, and she saw that her son was taking care of him. She saw that they were taking care of each other.

Ever since then, she's been so nice to Alex it makes Alex feel kind of ashamed he's such a jerk.

George's brothers are still reeling from finding out that George is gay, but they like Alex well enough, because he can talk cars and action flicks. It gets a bit weird every now and then when it becomes obvious Alex is more than just a fourth brother, when George kisses his cheek or when they hold hands under the table (not that Alex will ever admit to that), but for the most part, it's all cool. George's dad is the same, though he's obviously itching to give Alex the what-are-your-intentions speech, which would be funny, if it weren't so scary.

They're sitting in the living room, waiting for dinner to be ready, when the doorbell rings.

"I invited some friends over," George's mom says. "Hope you don't mind."

(No one minds, because George's family is pretty cool.)

When the door opens, George and Alex are sitting on the couch, too close to be just friends, and Alex is stealing pieces of the orange George is eating.

They both look up to inspect the newcomers. Alex' arm is still around George's shoulders.

It's Jenny. And with her is an older woman with tight grey curls and brown eyes.

Alex can't say anything beyond a barely-whispered, "Mom?"

Alex' mom has lines around her eyes, lines creasing her forehead, spots on hands that are dry and cracked from cold weather. She looks like she used to be pretty, before life got in the way. "Alex," she says.

Her voice sounds like a smoker's, husky and not quite healthy, like the three nurses in the cancer ward who resolutely don't listen when the doctors tell them to quit smoking.

"What-how-?" Alex asks.

"I've been talking with Izzie," Jenny says. Much to everyone's surprise, she and Izzie get along like a house on fire. "And Izzie's been talking to Louise. We thought it would be nice to spend Christmas together."

George's mom nods happily.

Alex is frozen in his seat.

"Alex, honey, are you okay?" George's mom asks.

Alex can't quite think of an answer, but these days, that's what he's got George for. "I think he's gonna be just fine, Mom," George says, slapping Alex lightly on the shoulder, that boyish, somewhat lopsided grin on his face. He gets to his feet and walks over to Alex' mom.

"Hi, Mrs. Karev," he says, holding out his hand. "I'm George."

"You're…Alex' boyfriend, right?" She asks, and on second listen, there's something melodic under the surface roughness of her voice.

"Yeah," George says, somewhat surprised. "Yeah, I am."

She takes his hand in hers and shakes it firmly. "Nice to meet you."

"You, too," George says, and then he goes to say hi to Jenny, clearing the center stage for reunion.

Alex has managed to get to his feet in the meantime, though he still feels paralyzed with shock. He hasn't seen his mom since…god, he doesn't even really know. He just kept coming up with reasons not to go back, so he wouldn't be faced with the memories, or the chance of disappointing her all over again.

"I've missed you," Alex' mom says.

"Missed you, too," Alex says, and they move forwards at the same time, till they're hugging, for the first time since Alex was a little boy.

George's mother has tears in her eyes and is reaching for a camera, and Alex is reaching over his mom's shoulder for Jenny and George and pulling them both close until it's a big group hug of all the people Alex calls family.

Yeah.

Best Christmas Alex can remember having in a long time.

When he falls asleep that night, his mom and sister are sharing the fold-out couch next to the small Christmas tree in Alex and George's living room. There are a few presents in gaudy paper set underneath it, Izzie's coming over on Christmas day, and George and Alex are pressed close and tight, just the way they always sleep. And it's not because Alex needs George to love him. It's because Alex loves to need George.

_So if you call, I will answer  
And if you fall, I'll pick you up  
And if you court this disaster  
I'll point you home._

_~Barenaked Ladies_

**FYI: Okay, so, given how long this is, it didn't take me half as long as I thought it would. It was strangely fun to write though, and very different for me, because I usually have less plot in my fic. I have slight issues with the George POV, but…well. Let me know what you think. And because this fic apparently ate my brain while I was writing it, there's a bunch of spin-off/timestamp type things I have in mind, if you're interested…**

**The following possibilities exist: **

**-Jerry and/or Ronny POV ficlet on George/Alex**

**-Alex' mom POV ficlet**

**-Missing pre- and post-court Alex scenes**

**So if there's any interest, shout ;)**


End file.
